


shades of purple

by ggrantaire



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, because there's a monster under her bed, besotted Whelk, but all he wants to do is talk ley lines, consequently there's Also something hiding under your bed at the moment, more fluffy than originally intended, sweet older brother Noah, tfw your boyfriend shows up at your window in the middle of the night, then your little sister comes to interrupt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6516379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggrantaire/pseuds/ggrantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Can I come over?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Well at least he’s not asking Noah to make the effort tonight. <em>i was about to go to sleep, i dnt think so</em></p><p>  <em>Okay but what if I were already here</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	shades of purple

**Author's Note:**

> edit: this was written before trk, so i guess abby's real name is adele or something, and her age is all wrong, but i'm not changing it. i almost shouted when we got a czerny sister in canon, though she did promptly destroy about 12 of my headcanons but We Move On
> 
> anywho

It’s nearly midnight. Noah has been in his pajamas for hours now, he’s just brushed his teeth, and he has every intention of crawling into bed, putting on a movie, and then falling asleep and staying that way for twelve hours—when his cell phone buzzes.

He _almost_ doesn’t look at it, because it’s probably Whelk, probably asking if he wants to drive over to his house and talk ley lines again (It’s the first week of summer vacation, and it’s already happened twice), and Noah has a movie date with himself to attend to right now. But of course he looks anyway.

 _Can I come over_?

Well at least he’s not asking Noah to make the effort tonight. _i was about to go to sleep, i dnt think so_

_Okay but what if I were already here_

A sharp tapping noise draws Noah’s attention to the navy curtains across his room.

_barrington whelk if i open my curtains and you are standing there i swear to god_

_Open the window_

Noah shuffles over to the window and pulls his curtain an inch to the side, just enough to peer out at Whelk, barely discernable in the darkness, leaned against his window sill, phone in one hand, the other tapping impatiently on his knee. He notices Noah and gives a wide smile. Noah deadpans and drops the curtain back.

“Czerny, come on!” His cry is muffled.

Noah looks back out the curtain again. He sighs lightly and yanks open the window. Whelk had already removed the screen himself, and he climbs in without any further ado. He gives Noah a once-over, taking in his too-long sweatpants and too-small t-shirt. He hums thoughtfully, but doesn’t remark further before sitting himself down in the center of Noah’s bedroom. He immediately pulls a binder and a few notebooks from his backpack.

“So, I was looking, and I’ve been thinking…” He bites his lip. “I mean, there’s not _enough_ to really say…” His voice draws quieter, assessing how to continue the idea. His eyes flick back to Noah, who is still standing by the window. “Aren’t you coming over here?”

Noah makes a face. “I really was gonna go to bed.” But he doesn’t sound too put out. Mostly just stubborn.

“Come _on_. Just give me an hour.”

“Half an hour.”

“Forty-five minutes.”

“Thirty-five.”

Whelk looks thoughtful, apparently running through everything he’d wanted to discuss and then finally sighs, “Fine. Thirty-five minutes.”

“Okay,” Noah says, lighting up. He settles down next to Whelk on his stomach, chin in his hands. “Now what were you thinking?”

Whelk launches into a spiel of half-finished theories and conclusions, occasionally bouncing questions off of Czerny, though he never has anything insightful to say, partly because he doesn’t want to spurn Whelk into talking more, partly because he’s too tired to muster up substantial ideas. Whelk listens intently at the things he does say, though. Noah grins stupidly at the way he writes down some of Noah’s remarks, eyebrows furrowed.

 _Do you think the sacrifice has to be something physical_? _What do you think the power of the line can be used for, once it’s awake_? _What could have put it to sleep, anyway_? _How long has it been asleep_? These are the general questions, the ones that never seem to have answers, the one Whelk keeps asking and asking.

Noah mostly just shrugs to these questions by this point. He rolls onto his back, throwing one of Whelk’s pens into the air and catching it; then again, again. He knows Whelk isn’t expecting him to answer, he just likes to talk out loud sometimes. He likes to have company, and Noah is well suited for and perfectly content with listening silently.

Whelk has the top of his pen pressed to his lips. “And, Czerny, please tell me if I’m wrong, but—”

There’s a knock on Noah’s door. They share an exasperated look. Noah scrambles to his feet, eyes snapping between Whelk and the door and then around his room, looking for some place to hide.

“Noah?” A little voice asks. The doorknob turns, but it’s locked and jiggles uselessly about.

“Get under my bed,” he whispers, gesturing hastily.

Whelk crawls under the bed with only half-hearted complaints. Whelk does, however, grumble when Noah kicks his things underneath after him and his binder gets shoved into his bicep.

Noah unlocks his door and opens it to see the littlest Czerny standing there with her arms hugging her torso, blonde hair mussed and falling out of a braid Noah had put there himself earlier in the evening.

“Abby?” he asks softly. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a bad dream.”

Noah opens his mouth to reply, but stops, being too painfully aware of the fact that Whelk can hear everything they say. He bends his knees, dropping down to her height. She seems oblivious to any reluctance that Noah feels. “Did you?”

She just nods, looking down at the floor.

He doesn’t know what else to say. Most nights he would happily try to cheer her up, he would ask her to tell him about it, but there’s something embarrassing about doing that _with_ _Whelk under his fucking bed_. A selfish part of him hopes that she’ll leave, that she’ll go upstairs to find their parents—

But then she’s crying, pulling down whatever self-consciousness he harbored. He’s not going to turn away a crying six-year old, much less his little sister.

“Abby…” Noah puts his hands on her shoulders, but before he can say anything more, she steps forward and throws her arms around him, knocking him onto his butt. He gives a noise of surprise, though she doesn’t seem to notice; her arms are wrapped tight around his neck. “Hey, tell me what happened.”

“There’s something under my bed,” she sobs, “There really, really is. Mom said there wasn’t, and then Dad said there wasn’t, but there _is_. I had a dream that it was there, and then I woke up and there were noises, and I just _know_ …”

“Oh, okay,” Noah whispers, stroking a hand over her hair. He fumbles with what to say, hoping the hushed tone is enough. “Okay.”

 _God_ , any other night and he could do this no problem. How many times has he scouted closets for ghosts, searched dark hallways for shadowy intruders, made a nest of blankets in the middle of his carpet for her? A satisfying image of Noah throwing Whelk out the window head-first crosses his mind. Caring big brother isn’t the image he usually projects. But he feels his shirt getting wet with tears and her arms tightening around him, and so he sucks it up and tries to forget about the unwanted audience.

“Hey, you know what?”

“What?” she asks, voice hardly more than a whisper.

“I believe you. But you know what else?”

“What?”

“Whatever is under your bed is scared of you too, you little monster.”

“No…”

“Really, it is.”

She sits back to look at him, eyes wide, lips trembling. Then Noah scoops her up with one arm and plops her down on the bed. He sits cross-legged in front of her. First he wipes her tears off her cheeks, and then he tucks loose strands of her hair behind her ears. And finally he looks her pointedly in the eyes.

“All creatures that live under beds are very afraid of little girls. They go under beds so that they don’t have to look at you. They don’t know where else to go and then they get stuck and make themselves comfortable.”

“You’re lying…” She sniffs.

“No, I’m not! If you get down there and poke around, that thing will be out of there in a second. Straight out the window.”

Another few tears roll down her cheeks, but she wipes them away with the back of her hand. She considers what he’s said, but then another tremor shakes her shoulders, “Can I stay with you tonight?”

Noah idly wonders what Whelk would do to him if he trapped him beneath his bed like that. “You know I’d let you, little monster, but I think tonight we should go investigate. We should scare that thing away once and for all.”

Abby wrings her hands together, shoulders slumped. She shifts her gaze this way and that, unable to look at Noah.

“You really can’t stay here tonight, Abbybug. I’ve got some… things to do. But I love you? Any other night, you come right on back. If the thing under your bed has the nerve to come back, you come get me right away. I’ll tell it off.”

Her smile is shaky, and she mumbles, “Okay.”

“You wanna go send it out?”

She nods. “Will you come?”

“Of course I’ll come.”

He slides off the bed and takes her hand to help her off. She’s shuffling though, dragging her heels; Noah sighs good-naturedly and lifts her up, settling her on his hip. “You’re really too big for this.”

“No, I’m not,” she whispers into his shirt.

“Can’t argue with that.”

She makes a noise of protest when Noah heads for her room, which is right across the hall from his; he strokes her hair again, and she wipes her eyes on his shirt. They settle down on the floor by her bed, and Noah whispers insults under the bed skirt. She giggles at them, and her tears are dry by the time they’re done. _But you’ve gotta be the one to look under there, Abby. He’s only afraid of little girls, I told you_. He holds her hand, and they laugh together when Abby throws up the skirt and finds nothing but dust bunnies blowing along the wood floor.

“That was so awesome, the way you scared it away,” he tells her. “Totally awesome. Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“Do you ever have things under your bed?”

Noah gives a dry laugh. “Oh, sometimes. Not in a long while, though. It was a real problem when I was your age. I couldn’t get rid of them, I had to go get Rachael with her girl powers.”

Noah tucks Abby into bed after fluffing her pillow up and arranging an army of stuffed animals along the wall on the edge of her bed. He gives her hand a squeeze, and they say their goodnights. She asks him to turn off the nightlight before he goes. He makes an impressed face, points to her, and says, _You are the biggest monster in this room_. She grins before the room drops into darkness.

He shuts her door noiselessly behind him and sighs as he trudges into his room, his own door still wide open. Whelk is now half under his bed, half out. His whole face is lit up in a smile, and Noah really can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. Noah closes and locks the door again.

“Czerny, that was the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he says, pulling himself all the way out from under the bed, and then he places himself on the edge of his mattress. “Like, that was touching. Will you father my children? Holy shit.”

Noah rolls his eyes, faintest of smiles on his lips. “Shut up.” He drops down beside Whelk and stretches his legs in front of him. “So what were you saying before that?”

But he isn’t going to get away that easily. Whelk, all wide eyes, sharp angles, and dark hair, looks like his mind is somewhere else. His hand is dangerously close to Noah’s knee, and his eyes flick downwards in a way that Noah knows is not accidental.

“I think you still had eight minutes of ley line talk left,” Noah says amusedly.

He shrugs. “I was done anyway.”

“No, I think we agreed on thirty-five, not twenty-seven.” Noah puts a hand to Whelk’s chest and pushes him back with his fingertips. “Now, what were we saying before? Directing the energy back to… something…?”

In disbelief, Whelk assumes a wounded look. “You’re the one who wanted less time—”

Noah picks up a black spiral notebook from the floor and opens to a random page. “Ah yes, the ley line is often known to—”

Whelk plucks the notebook from his hands, soliciting a _Hey!_ from Noah, and then he discards it at the foot of the bed. He catches Noah in a brash kiss, fingers running instinctively through his hair.

Noah laughs, clambering away, fingers stretching for the notebook behind him, “No way, we have seven, _at least_ seven minutes left, I fucking love talking about the ley line. You’re an inspiration, man, I never wanna stop talking about the goddamn ley line…!” He lands on his back, hand colliding with the notebook. Whelk is practically on top of him, though he has to roll to one side when Noah lifts his knees in defense.

Whelk’s fingers brush at Noah’s hip bone, but he swats him off, pushing himself to the end of his bed, where he leans against the footboard. He cracks the notebook again, opening to a different page. “One person notes the particular spontaneity of— _hey_!” He yanks the book away from Whelk’s hand, holding it in the air high above his head. “There have been reports of strange apparitions and voices along spirit roads,” he reads steadily, even as Whelk slides up next to him, his chest to Noah’s side, “though they are infrequent and diverse in nature.” Whelk leans across him, putting one hand on top of the wooden footboard behind him. Noah loses his place. “Six minutes, Barrington. Activity along the ley line is unable to be predicted—” He takes a sharp breath as Whelk’s lips meet his neck, but he pushes on, “and it is therefore hard to relate to— _God_.” Whelk sinks closer to Czerny and then pulls himself onto his lap, legs straddled over him, lips never breaking contact. Noah faintly shakes his head and continues, “Hard to relate to anything concrete, _except—”_ Noah bites his lip, closing his eyes. “You need to get your tongue off my neck, we still have five more minutes at least.”

“You make me want to _die_ ,” Whelk complains, brushing one last kiss to his neck before sitting back and dropping his hands from the footboard to land on Noah’s shoulders. “Continue. Get on with it.”

Suspiciously, Noah drops the notebook to a more reasonable height, between his chest and Whelk’s—and thank God, his arms were getting tired holding it above his head—and begins to slowly read from another page. Whelk nods along dully. He gets a glare from Czerny every time he moves at all, though he does manage to drop his hands and slide his fingers along the inside, lower hem of his shirt without receiving any argument.

It’s probably only been three minutes when Noah says, “But naturally occurring power sources are unsteady and _full of bullshit and that’s why we’re never gonna figure out how to do anything at all with this motherfucking ley line_.” And he tosses the notebook to the floor.

“You’re wrong about that,” Whelk says sternly, placing a hand on either side of Czerny’s face.

“Maybe. We’ll see, I guess.”

Whelk scowls, sitting back and folding his arms. “I don’t even wanna kiss you anymore.”

“That is a damn lie,” Noah mutters, glancing at his hands as though checking his nails.

In response, Whelk yanks at Noah’s shirt and helps him pull it over his head. Noah gives a knowing smirk and then wraps an arm around Whelk’s back, fingers running along his spine, and then he pushes him off his lap and onto his back. Noah, being one of those little shits who likes to work around clothes as long as possible before removing them, drags his fingertips along Whelk’s sides, pushing his shirt up past his navel but not farther. He leans over him to press a kiss to his lips, which Whelk returns with a ferocity that would suggest it’s been much longer since this last happened than it actually has been.

Then Noah breaks off to press a kiss to his jaw; Whelk makes a breathy noise and then says, “You know, that thing with your sister was so cute.”

“Stop talking about my little sister when I’m trying to make out with you,” Noah mumbles, lips brushing against his skin as he speaks.

“I’ve _never_ seen you like that.” Whelk sounds like he’s smiling.

“Shut up.” He sucks at the skin just above Whelk’s collarbone.

Whelk leans into the touch, but continues, “No, I really think—”

“Okay, so here’s the thing.” Noah sits up, back straight. He folds his hands and rests them on Whelk’s ribs. “One minute ago, I was trying to talk, and you were trying really hard to get me to stop. And now _I’m_ just trying to make out a little. Just a little. And here you are, keeping me from doing that. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I just think you’re really cute.” He props himself up on his elbows.

“Compliments can only get you so far here.”

Whelk looks, considering, to the ceiling, humming in thought. He parts his lips, cracking a smile, “I think I just like being difficult.”

“Now that sounds more like the truth.”

In return, Whelk raises an eyebrow and wraps his hands around Noah’s, still folded on his chest, and pulls them apart to knot them with his own. Noah feigns annoyance for a few, disjointed seconds before pressing their linked hands to the mattress above Whelk’s head and leaning back down.

Noah is an earnest kisser—the type of person who will smile randomly in the middle of it, who will go from brushing kisses along your neck to painting it with bruises in an instant. He extracts his fingers from Whelk’s and lets them trail lazily down his arms before he finally helps him out of his shirt. Noah sits back a little, spreading his hands open against his chest. He regards Whelk, taking in the quirk of his lips, unassuming brown eyes and skin that looks much darker than it is when pressed against Noah’s.

“Do you want to watch a movie with me?”

Whelk says slowly, “That wasn’t exactly what I’d been planning on.”

“Well, it _was_ what I’d been planning on just before you climbed in my window.” Noah drags a finger down the center of his chest, coming to a stop at the lower part of his stomach.

“What were you going to watch?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Whelk scoffs lightly. He reaches up and rests his hands at the back of Noah’s neck and pulls him back towards him. Not all the way, though. Noah leans against one elbow, propped beside Whelk’s head, and with the other hand, he traces mindless patterns along his ribs while Whelk does the same at the top of Noah’s spine. For a moment they stay like that, and then Noah slides away, lying on his side next to Whelk, who remains on his back. He looks at Noah out of the corner of his eyes, though.

Noah throws an arm over his chest, dragging himself closer. Then he peers up at Whelk through his eyelashes and almost laughs.

“What are you _thinking_ about?”

Because while he’s been staring at Noah, he’s been wearing such a curious expression, one that Noah hadn’t entirely noticed right away but is now notable for the fact that it doesn’t seem to be disappearing and the fact that Whelk seems perplexed by it as well.

Whelk smirks at the question. “I was thinking I need back those eight minutes from before, I’ve had a thought about the line—”

Noah refrains from backhanding him but just barely.

Whelk notices the flicker of movement in his hand and laughs. “No, I just…” Whelk trails off, so evidently at a loss for words, something uncharacteristic enough to significantly pique Noah’s interest. Once again Noah props himself on his elbow, in attempt to get a better look at his face. This seems to be the opposite of what Whelk wanted, because he glances to the other side of the room, an airy sort of smile on his lips. When he meets Noah’s eyes again, he tries once more, “I just…” But then he pulls their lips back together, and now he pushes Noah onto his back.

Noah, breathless and bemused, grins into the kiss as Whelk pulls his hand into his and with the other, tugs at his hair. He grazes his teeth along Noah’s lip, drags his thumb along his jawline. When after a moment he breaks off and stares down at Noah, the other grins and pokes a finger to his chest.

“That was not an answer.”

“Oh, was it not? What about this?”

Whelk lowers his lips to Noah’s neck, and the sharp tug of Whelk’s mouth at his skin solicits a broken gasp, but Noah’s laughing again when Whelk looks up with a wicked grin a moment later.

“No, that was also not an answer.”

Feigning thoughtfulness, Whelk taps his fingers against Noah’s chest. Then he’s drifting backwards and catching his fingers just along the inside of his pants. He sinks down, lips dangerously close to the waistband of Noah’s sweats.

“And what about this?”

“That… _might_ be an answer.”

If Noah had thought his expression was wicked before, it was nothing compared to what crosses his face now.

And though Whelk’s lips against his thigh and his tongue against flushed skin is certainly a good attempt at an answer, Noah still finds himself biting down a laugh as Whelk’s lips drift upwards again, pressing kisses along his hipbone, his abdomen, his neck, and finally back to his lips. Noah shakes his head, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling Whelk down on top of him.

“Nice try,” he whispers in his ear, lips brushing against the lobe.

Whelk just murmurs a defeated noise. “You know already, though.”

“Difficult, difficult,” Noah mumbles, taking his face in his hands. “Always so difficult.”

Whelk’s gentle countenance is back—the wondering, almost puzzled one from before. And then Whelk gives him a quick kiss, just lips but all feeling.

“Ah,” Noah breathes, smiling. “I understand.” He puts a hand to Whelk’s chest and rolls to the side, switching their positions. As he stares down at him, Noah assumes the same expression. He runs a hand through Whelk’s hair, nodding, considering. Without warning, his attention drifts lower and he pulls at the button on Whelk’s jeans. “It’s okay,” Noah says, kissing the side of his mouth, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1.) i have mega headcanons about the czerny sisters + noah, this doesn't even begin to cover it
> 
> 2.) [helengansey](http://helengansey.tumblr.com) on tumblr


End file.
